


And Past The End You Will Be Strong

by Akumeoi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deities, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Monsters, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi
Summary: In order to defeat Niflheim and bring the Dawn, Noctis accepted the gifts of the gods' messengers - monstrous, wonderful powers that transformed his body and mind. When everything was over, Prompto went to see what had become of Noctis - and find out if his best friend was lost to him forever.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	And Past The End You Will Be Strong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MathClassWarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/gifts).



> Thank you so much to Math for requesting me through the Fandom Trumps Hate auction! This piece is thematically similar to last year's, but I hope different enough to still be enjoyable. It was a pleasure to write for you again.
> 
> This fic is what you get when you moodboard together the "Giant Woman" and "Strong In The Real Way" episodes of Steven Universe with [this](https://burbled-xv.tumblr.com/post/181827933632/some-drawings-from-an-au-where-noctis-comes-back) and [this](https://burbled-xv.tumblr.com/post/184050930122/slides-these-across-the-table-without-context-just) messenger/monster Noctis fanart by burbled-xv. 
> 
> Thanks to Astraia for the beta! You're a champ!

_and when we go we won’t go slow_  
_we’ll put up such a fight_

The morning after the Dawn came Prompto returned to the Citadel, desperate to find out what had become of his best friend. Noctis had been lost for so long, it was too much to hope for that he, too, would’ve been completely restored by the magic of the Dawn. 

When he entered the throne room, Prompto immediately saw that his fears had come true. Sitting perched on the grey stone rubble beneath the hole in the wall, watching the day rise in a flood of blue and pink sky, was a being; one who stood between two and three times the height of twenty-one year old Prompto. This was the angel Nox, who had taken Noctis’s place many months ago. Noctis was not there.

The being gazed down at the ruined city, the light highlighting the soft features of his youthful face and the messily styled black hair which he had inherited from Noctis. But the irises set in that face perpetually glowed with a shocking magenta hue. Six massive black wings unfolded from his back in pairs, while two elegantly curved horns crowned his head. He had six arms, also in pairs; and on the back of each hand was an large eye, also with a magenta iris. These blinked as normal eyes would but seemed to be able to stare for just a little bit longer. Nox’s hands and feet were claw-tipped, his mouth filled with fangs which Prompto knew from combat experience were both poisonous and stronger than steel. Nox wore a draping black tunic which had been crafted by Ignis from several bedsheets and a silver curtain cord, back when Noctis first started growing bigger. In the centre of the tunic was a neatly hemmed hole, held open by small black ties; and inside that hole was a large crystal geode set into Nox’s body, perpetually dispersing an eerie blue-white glow - his magical heart. 

And through that heart was thrust an ornate sword which transfixed him from front to back, which he could unsheathe from his chest in a spray of ichor to release a fleet of the spectral weapons of his ancestors. The sword in the stone heart for the chosen king. Every time Prompto looked at it for too long, he felt like his own chest was caving in.

Despite the delicateness of Nox’s facial features, he exuded a wild and fierce air, warning anyone in a fifty foot radius that he was dangerous. He fairly crackled with all of the Astral energy that his large body carried.

Nox had replaced Noctis completely because Nox _was_ Noctis, but armed with elemental powers from the arsenal of the Six gods. Each of the Six had given him two gifts, one through each of the members in their primary pair of messengers. With each new gift, Noctis had become more powerful and more monstrous. With each new gift, a part of who he was had seemed to disappear, until it seemed to Prompto that he was fighting alongside a stranger. Albeit a stranger who looked like his best friend, one who had the same moods as him and the same expressions and sometimes habits and tastes. One who would kill with extreme prejudice if it seemed like one of his three best friends was in danger. 

But one who barely spoke except for one or two words at a time when it was asked of him, one who followed secret directives known only to him, one who Prompto could not reach but could only follow. 

And he was still here, and the Noctis they had all known was gone. 

Nox turning back into Noctis would have been too much to ask for, Prompto knew. The night was over. The demons were gone. The Empire had been defeated. The balance in Eos had been restored, and the natural magical forces of the land once again calmly reigned. All of these miracles had been accomplished thanks to Nox and the powers the Six had granted him. 

But Prompto wanted Noctis back so badly he could barely breathe for it. Maybe Noctis was lost to him forever, and he’d have to truly learn to live with - or lose - the giant creature who had replaced him. But he had to at least try and see if the Noctis he knew was still there under all those layers of spells and gifts. If he didn’t try, Prompto would never forgive himself.

Which was why he had slipped away from Ignis and Gladio without a word and was now climbing up the dusty, red-carpeted steps leading up to the throne. 

Nox heard him coming and turned towards him. He waited as Prompto picked his way over debris until he was just within reach of one of Nox’s long arms. 

This was the first time Prompto had seen Nox up close since he had received his final magical gift in Niflheim directly prior to their defeat of the remnants of the army inside Zegnautus Keep. In truth, Prompto hadn’t had much chance to look directly into Nox’s face before that, because after gift and transformation number four of twelve (the geode heart), Noctis had become far more secretive and reclusive than he had been before. 

The air was thick with the looming potential of violent magic, but Prompto wasn’t afraid of that, knowing with absolute certainty that Nox would never harm him. But still, his breath caught in his throat and his body began to feel cold. It was the expression on Nox’s face. He didn’t seem to recognise Prompto at all. There was something so foreign in Nox’s eyes, so lost. 

Prompto had never felt so alone in his whole life as he did looking into the eyes of his former best friend and receiving nothing back from them. It was as if he were gazing into the eyes of a wolf, or any intelligent species other than human that not only held no common ground with his own experience, but had no conceptual means to understand it. 

Prompto swallowed. Part of him was tempted to turn and walk away, but the part of him that loved Noctis and would do anything for him had always been the bigger half of his heart. 

In a timid whisper, Prompto said, “Nox? Do you know who I am?”

Nox looked down at Prompto strangely, and from a great height. His face was nearly expressionless, and Prompto’s heart stood still. 

The angel spoke. “Ever at your side.”

Prompto was seized with a wave of relief and love so strong it brought tears to his eyes. 

“Nox…” he said. “Noctis…”

The angel cocked his head in question. Prompto was struck by a new fear - that although Nox remembered Prompto, he had completely lost touch with his past self. That Noctis was lost forever, dispersed into that numinous heart. 

“Do you know - who Noctis is?” Prompto said in a choked voice. Nox’s brow furrowed as he thought about the question. He raised a massive, claw-tipped hand and pointed at himself. 

This didn’t bring as much relief to Prompto as Nox’s previous answer. Although he was glad Nox knew that he and Noctis were somehow linked, Prompto still had too many questions that needed to be answered.

“Noctis is you, but like you were in the past,” Prompto said, trying to explain. “You know, back when you were smaller and you talked more and wore shoes and stuff? Before you got the gods’ blessings. Do you remember that?”

Another moment of reflection, and Nox nodded. 

Prompto took a deep breath. “You know, buddy, the war is over,” he informed Nox. He knew it was an obvious fact, but one could never tell how much Nox understood the details of what was going on around him. “You did it. You brought the Dawn and everything. So do you think there’s a chance you can go back to being more… you know… like Noctis?”

Pure astonishment crossed Nox’s unearthly features then, so much so that he even opened his mouth a little as he contemplated what Prompto had said. Prompto had no idea what was going on inside that massive, horn-crowned head, and hoped that somehow his words were getting through Nox’s twisting, unknown maze of thoughts. 

Prompto didn’t want to rush Nox, but at this point he was too anxious to wait for more than a few minutes as Nox began to frown, in the same manner as high school Noctis confronting a particularly difficult math problem. That expression nearly broke Prompto. It was so close to his best friend, and yet so far away. 

“Nox?” Prompto asked, and his voice broke. 

Nox heard him. The frown deepened, making him look more fierce than ever. Despite himself, Prompto took a step backwards. And then he cried out in fear as four large, claw-tipped hands closed around his torso and lifted him into the air. The other two hands hovered around his torso as if unsure where to land. 

Although Prompto flinched, Nox did not hurt him. His big hands around Prompto’s body were warm and surprisingly gentle. His claws barely brushed the fabric of Prompto’s clothing. His hold was secure, making Prompto feel safe despite being suspended several feet above the ground. 

Nox peered deeply into Prompto’s face, perhaps trying to spot tears that were too small for his giant eyes to pick out. Or perhaps, Prompto thought, because he, too, was searching Prompto’s eyes for something that spoke to him, something he didn’t know how to find. 

“You’re sad,” Nox observed. “Why?”

“I miss you,” Prompto wailed. Regaining a little self-possession, he scrambled to find the words to explain what he so desperately wanted and needed - Noctis!! to be Noctis again, oh gods please, _please_. “I miss Noctis,” Prompto said, taking a deep breath. “I want Noctis back because he’s my best friend. I want things to be how they used to be, where I could talk to you about anything and you could… understand.”

He knew it was a little bit brutal to put it so directly, but he didn’t have the time or the heart to mince words. 

“Noctis… is not strong,” Nox said. 

“You’ve done so much for us and protected us so many times, but there’s no more danger now,” Prompto pleaded. “And if you mean… I dunno, emotionally? You don’t have to be strong anymore. I’ll help you. We’ll help you.”

Nox was silent for so long that Prompto knew he was not going to speak again unless Prompto spoke first. The magenta eyes in the backs of his hands stared into Prompto’s body as if trying to x-ray his soul. 

“I just don’t think it’s right for you to spend the rest of your life as Nox when I know that _Noctis_ wouldn’t want that,” Prompto said.

It was true. After Noctis’s second transformation (the first set of wings), he’d said to Prompto (his back covered in dried blood where the skin had split to allow the wing bones through) that he was afraid of what would happen to him once he had been fully transformed. In a way, Nox wasn’t just Prompto’s worst fear in living form, but Noctis’s as well. And Prompto wouldn’t be a good friend to Noctis if he didn’t fight for his friend even when - no, _especially_ when - he wasn’t entirely here to fight for himself. 

“Please,” Prompto finally tried in a whisper. 

Nox’s gaze snapped back to Prompto’s face. He lowered Prompto back to the ground with infinite care. With two hands around Prompto’s torso to keep him from spooking, he delicately used one finger to brush away the moisture gathering at the corners of Prompto’s eyes. The tenderness of the gesture took Prompto’s breath away.

“I’m going,” Nox said.

With that, he released Prompto completely. All six of his glossy black wings snapped open. 

“Nox!” Prompto yelled, but it was too late. Nox had launched himself out of the Citadel and into the blue sky beyond. 

“Nox!” Prompto screamed again, clambering over broken rubble to reach the hole in the wall, scraping his hands and bruising his knees in the process. But Nox did not turn around, disappearing further and further away with each percussive beat of his wings. Helplessly, Prompto watched him go. When he could take it no longer, his knees collapsed and he half fell, half sat into a crumpled position on the floor. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t too late and maybe this separation was temporary, but he was so overwhelmed that he finally gave in and succumbed to tears. 

Perhaps his hasty words had lost Noctis to him forever.

⁂

_but all the children know_  
 _for sure this pain will surely pass_

After the disaster in the Citadel, the three retainers returned to Hammerhead. Insomnia was still inhabited by many who had both survived the Empire’s initial attack and the year-long demonic darkness, but it lacked basic amenities such as electricity. Besides, Hammerhead was far closer to a home for any of them now than the bombed-out ruin that the city had become. 

Ignis and Gladio were furious with Prompto for provoking Nox’s disappearance. But after an initial heated argument, which turned into a tearful screaming match, they were all coping with their loss by acting out a cold version of normalcy in which they barely spoke to each other and completed all of their tasks by rote. At least, Ignis and Gladio barely spoke to Prompto, and he barely spoke to them. Even Cindy could hardly raise a smile from him. 

“I’m sure the prince wouldn’t just abandon you,” she said to him sometime in the first week, after she had understood what the problem was. Prompto thanked her and was grateful for her compassion, but what he didn’t say was: No, _Noctis_ would never abandon me - but I have no clue about _Nox_. Though Nox was demonstrably the same person, he was so unpredictable that Prompto just couldn’t bring himself to whole-heartedly believe in his return.

It was near dusk two weeks after Nox first disappeared. Prompto had spent the day helping Cindy out in the garage, and now he was sitting outside by the caravan he shared with Ignis and Gladio, staring off into the orange sunset sky. It was a beautiful sight, one he hadn’t been able to see for the duration of the year; it soothed his soul to a degree, but it wasn’t enough. But, unlike other nights, the pull to come out here had been strong. Something told him that tonight, he shouldn’t hide away. 

He looked to the east, where Insomnia lay. There was nothing in the sky but a few fluffy clouds. No magical rainbow Wall could be seen, nor would ever be seen again. To the north and south, the sky was empty.

Prompto looked into the setting sun. Red light washed over his face. And he saw, in the fading light, a figure in the sky.

Prompto got to his feet immediately, his heart in his mouth. Could it be Nox? How would he have known to come to Hammerhead instead of Insomnia to find them? 

Oh, how Prompto prayed it would be Nox returning. But if it was Nox, he was in difficulties, drifting lower and flapping erratically the closer he came to Hammerhead. Prompto had to help him. 

There wasn’t time to grab a whole mattress, but Prompto pulled several blankets off of the beds inside the caravan. Then, he ran out into the desert, trying to judge where maybe-Nox would land. 

As the figure came closer, Prompto was able to get a better look at him. His heart leapt. It _was_ Nox! But something was definitely wrong. His wings were shedding clouds of feathers every time he flapped. There were visible raw bald spots on them. And if Prompto wasn’t mistaken, he was shrinking. The closer he got, the clearer it became that he was no longer fifteen feet tall. He was almost Noctis-sized again.

What in the world was going on? Prompto had no time to contemplate it. Noctis flew the last few feet on failing wings, and then, rather than landing gracefully, fell straight out of the sky and into Prompto’s blanket-padded arms. 

The force of Noctis’s landing was strong enough to knock the both of them to the ground. Prompto lay flat on his back, all the breath crushed out of his body. Noctis lay atop him, silent and still except for the heaving rise and fall of his entire torso as he breathed. The sword in his chest was digging into Prompto’s ribs, but - thank all the Astrals - Noctis had landed face-first and so Prompto had not been impaled by the bit sticking out of his back. 

As soon as Prompto could breathe again, he sat up. Noctis remained face-down across his lap, the silver point of the sword sticking up from between the explosion of gory black feathers covering his back. 

“Noctis? Nox? Noct?” Prompto asked desperately. 

“Hey, come on, stay with me now,” he said, trying to turn Noctis over so he could see his face. This was rendered nearly impossible not just by the fact that Noctis was a dead weight and the awkwardness of the sword, but the multiple enveloping blankets Prompto had used to cushion Noctis’s fall, and the fact that the robe Nox had been wearing was far too long for Noctis and his legs were completely tangled in it. The hole in his chest that bared the geode and sword now gaped open to show the length of his pale torso. 

“Come on buddy, look at me, open your eyes,” Prompto said, hardly knowing what he was saying.

Finally having turned Noctis over (and having no hope of extricating either of them from all this fabric without outside help), Prompto saw that Noctis’s eyes were closed. His mouth was open to admit deep, shuddering breaths. He seemed to be glowing blue-white. 

“Noctis?” Prompto tried again, checking Noctis’s pulse. Rapid, but stable. 

Noctis’s eyes flickered open, and Prompto was shocked at what he saw. Noctis’s irises were a swirling battle of demonic magenta and celestial blue-white - not the same colour as his original eyes, but one that matched the pulsing god-crystal in his chest. 

Through heaving pants, Noctis said, “Are… you… sure… this is… what… you want?”

“For you to be hurt? Gods, no!” Prompto exclaimed. 

“For me… to be… Noctis,” Noctis clarified. There was some of Nox’s deep growl in his voice, but there was some Noctis there too. 

“Yes, of course!” Prompto said. _Yes, a thousand, million times yes!_ There was no other answer. 

Noctis closed his eyes. He raised one arm, fingers groping on thin air until he found the hilt of the sword. As he realised what was about to happen, Prompto let out a wordless shout. And then, Noctis tugged with all his might, and the sword pulled out of his chest in a flash of blue-white light. 

Having been staring directly at it, Prompto was momentarily blinded. He clutched Noctis as tightly as he could, blinking and confused. Pulling the sword out of his chest hurt Nox, but it couldn’t kill him. But Noctis? He had no idea. 

When at last Prompto could see again, he gazed down at the form in his lap. Through the clouds that covered his eyes, he began to see that Noctis was changing. 

Even as Prompto watched, the fangs retracted, the horns shrank, the extra arms and the wings shrank and fell apart. Black feathers carpeted the ground. The geode in Noctis’s chest began to close, leaving behind skin that was stained black. A perfect drawing of the geode grew on Noctis’s skin like an ink picture miraculously blooming out of clear water. On the backs of his hands the eyes closed, tracing their own indelible mark into his skin. It was as if the monstrous features the gods’ gifts had inflicted onto Noctis were being stored in his body in case they were ever needed again. There was no doubt that if one were to gently comb through Noctis’s hair and look at his scalp, or to look on the inside of his lips or beneath his fingernails, they would see the markings of horns, claws, and fangs like tattoos on his skin. The wings on his back and even the extra four arms left marks as well, the latter folding across his stomach palm-down.

Only the sword remained real, solid metal in his hand, leaving no doubt about what to do should Noctis ever need to assume his angelic form again. There was even a slice drawn through the centre of the tattooed geode for it, an empty sheath. 

Prompto watched all of this, breathless. There was nothing he could do _but_ watch and hold Noctis down to keep him from hurting himself as he groaned and writhed in pain. He kept up a constant litany of _I got you, I got you, it’s gonna be okay_.

Noctis’s body stilled, twitching occasionally. Steam seemed to rise from his skin, but it was simply magical energy dissipating as his new tattoos stopped moving and froze into place. His breathing began to calm.

Then, Noctis’s eyes opened. They weren’t eerie magenta, and they weren’t magical blue-white. They were Noctis’s own beautiful, mundane blue eyes. 

That was when Prompto knew. 

“Noct!” he cried, wrapping his arms around Noctis and pulling him half-upright into a hug. The sword that had been in Noctis’s hand fell onto the ground with a dull thunk and a puff of dust. 

“Prompto,” Noctis said, his voice tired and pained but undeniably his. Weakly, he brought both arms up and hugged Prompto back.

⁂

_and you will be one day exactly what you are_  
 _just keep your head held high,_  
 _kiss your fist and touch the sky_

After that there were joyful tears and a call to Ignis and Gladio quickly made. In moments they were out in the desert with Prompto, helping him to unwrap Noctis from his many blankets and layers. They took him back to Hammerhead, where Cindy was all too happy to give up her bed so that Noctis could rest in comfort from his ordeal. 

Noctis slept for three straight days, waking only to use the bathroom once or twice. By the time he was ready to wake up, Ignis had planned out all of his meals for the next week. Prompto was planning what he wanted to say, what he wanted to ask. And Gladio was planning another trip to Insomnia to get some of Noctis’s stuff out of the palace now that it was free to access for them, but he didn’t want to go before Noctis woke up. All three of them showed they cared for Noctis in their own ways as they waited for him to wake.

The three retainers kept a constant rotating vigil at Noctis’s bedside. When he actually woke, it was Gladio who was there with him, but the other two were quickly summoned. Noctis consumed a monumental quantity of soup and everyone admired his new tattoos. Prompto didn’t know how to feel about those just yet, but if they were okay with Noctis they would be okay with him.

Eventually, Prompto found himself alone with Noctis. This was mostly due to his stubbornness in remaining past the time when Gladio and Ignis left. 

“Do you wanna get up?” Prompto asked. “You just slept for three days. Are you still tired?”

“You would be too if you just lost half your body mass and… ten limbs.”

Six wings and four arms. Prompto snickered. “You had to count, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Noctis said without any heat whatsoever. “Listen, Prompto. Tell me something.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you _sure_ you want Noctis instead of Nox?”

“Dude, why do you keep asking me that? You know I do,” Prompto said uneasily.

“I kinda… regret transforming back,” Noctis admitted in a low voice.

“You what?” Prompto said. “I mean, wait. I thought you didn’t want to become Nox. I thought you wanted to be Noctis.”

“I want to be Noctis, but… not if it means I can’t protect you and Ignis and Gladio.” Noctis’s gaze dropped. “I’m not strong enough to do it on my own.”

“First of all, I didn’t get this Crownsguard degree for nothing,” Prompto said.

“Not a degree, but okay.”

“Yeah, whatever, you know what I meant. Second of all, there’s nobody left to fight except I guess, Niflheim extremists who won’t quit the war they lost and wild animals, the non-demonic kind. I think we can handle those. Third of all… I don’t even care about being protected or whatever. I just want my best friend back.”

Prompto didn’t know if he should try and elaborate in detail on point three. There was a lot he could say on the subject of what Noctis meant to him and just how much he lo- cared for and needed him, but going down that road might expose some extreme vulnerabilities, and he didn’t know if Noctis would appreciate that conversation.

As he was pondering this, Noctis, too, was silent. 

“I…” he started. Prompto looked up.

“I could feel it, you know,” Noctis said. Blue eyes bored into Prompto’s own purple-tinged ones. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nox… wasn’t good at communicating with words. But he had other ways of communicating that humans don’t have. It’s hard to explain, but… to him, the emotion behind a word mattered more than whatever you actually said. Made conversations pretty confusing.”

“And?” said Prompto, nervous.

Noctis took a deep breath. “I know that you…”

“Yeah?”

“You… you…” His voice dipped low, “…love me.”

Prompto swallowed. “Yeah,” he whispered finally. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

Noctis opened his mouth. Stopped, pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. Sighed. Prompto watched all of these expressions with the doom-laden feeling of someone awaiting a life sentence jury verdict.

“I can’t say it,” Noctis said roughly. Reaching out, he put his hand behind Prompto’s head and pulled until Prompto yielded and allowed Noctis to press their foreheads together. Noctis’s fingers twined in the short gold hair at the nape of Prompto’s neck, gentler now. 

“I wish you had the same senses I used to have, cuz then you’d already know,” Noctis murmured.

“I know being Nox made you care a lot less about personal space,” Prompto joked, before his brain had time to parse what Noctis was trying to tell him. “Wait.”

“Should I,” Noctis started, loosening his grip.

Prompto took his new freedom of movement and used it to kiss Noctis on the lips.

Noctis made a soft noise of surprise, but before Prompto could think to pull away Noctis twined his fingers in Prompto’s hair again and melted into the kiss. It was Prompto’s first kiss, and he knew it was Noctis’s too. Noctis’s lips were soft, without even a hint of the fangs that had recently resided beneath them. Prompto couldn’t even begin to categorise everything he was feeling in that moment. All he knew was that Noctis was warm and soft beneath him, and _his_. 

After a few more kisses Prompto drew away, breathless. “Was that. I mean. Was it okay?”

“Now who doesn’t care about personal space?” Noctis said. Prompto laughed.

“You know I never did. At least not with you.”

Uncurling from where he’d been leaning over Noctis, Prompto stretched.

“Here,” Noctis said, “get on the bed.”

“What?”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Lie down, dumbass. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Prompto raised a suspicious eyebrow before realising that Noctis was making a transparent excuse to get Prompto to cuddle with him. Of _course_ Noctis would consider napping to be a couples’ activity. In principle, Prompto wasn’t opposed to this. Still, it set his heart aflutter as he did as Noctis asked, lying down on the bed beside him with his head on Noctis’s shoulder. 

Prompto breathed out. “So we’re a - a couple, now?”

“If we’re not, then get the hell out of my bed,” Noctis deadpanned, and Prompto giggled. 

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah. Okay. We’re a couple. That’s good. No. That’s better than good! That’s--”

“Shhhh,” Noctis said, cutting through Prompto’s nervous ramblings. Then, more quietly: “It’s good.”

Although he usually found it difficult to be silent for a long time, Prompto’s head was such a jumbled swirl of new thoughts and feelings that he was quiet as he lay there at Noctis’s side. Noctis’s hands were folded across his stomach, and Prompto could quite clearly see the hyper-realistic closed eyelid etched into the back of each hand. 

Instinctively, Prompto reached to trace the line of the eyelid with his finger. When he realised what he’d done, he paused, but Noctis didn’t seem to mind his touch. Prompto loosely rested his hand along Noctis’s forearm, the thread of their earlier conversation flickering back into his mind.

“You were wrong,” Prompto said. “Nox isn’t stronger than you.”

“What?” Noctis said, perplexed.

“Nox had the easy job,” Prompto said. “You had to become him. You let them transform you into something that you’re not, just to do the right thing. And I know it sucked ass, so don’t try to pretend it didn’t. Nox? He just shot lasers out of his eyes or whatever, and stuff died. His life was way easier compared to yours.”

Noctis was very still. “You’re talking about emotional strength. That won’t stop a Niflheim death robot. Nox’s powers did.”

“But emotional strength is more important. Think about it. If you were a coward, you never would’ve become Nox in the first place. And I know, _I know_ that if you had to right now, you’d take that damn sword and stab yourself with it again. You sacrificed your whole life to be Nox, and that’s what defeated Niflheim and brought the dawn again, not anything he did.”

“You _really_ hate this guy, don’t you, huh?” Noctis teased him. 

Although Prompto could tell Noctis wasn’t serious, he answered semi-seriously anyway. “Nah,” he said. “I couldn’t hate him. He was just you but weirder.”

Noctis snorted. “Not gonna argue with that.”

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I want you to know how great I think you are,” Prompto said, and blushed when he realised what he’d said. “Uh, I mean, uh. You’re great? Not Nox.”

“Nerd.”

Any possible sting in Noctis’s comment was completely erased when he opened his palm and slid his fingers between Prompto’s. 

“Whatever,” Noctis said. “I came back for you anyway. It’s what I wanted. What a good king of Lucis would’ve done doesn’t matter now ‘cuz I’m not going back.”

Prompto’s heart leapt to hear Noctis’s resolution, and he squeezed Noctis’s palm.

“Guess we’ll both just have to be weakling humans together, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

  
_the sound we hear it is our hearts, they are in time_  
_they’re marching clear and swift_  
_the beat forever in our minds_  
_it gives us hope, it gives us strength_  
_you know, to carry on_  
_keep at it ‘till the end_  
_and past the end you will be strong_

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics in this fic are from [Kiss The Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pHQuCezmLE) by Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra ft. Nino Moschella. (The [live version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNMsxu_q-Ng) is awesome too!) This fic isn't really a songfic - it just seemed natural to add the lyrics as epigraphs as I went because they fit so well. 
> 
> Comments always welcome!


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